How a Self-Proclaimed Cat Hater Ends Up Living with Three Rotten Cats

As I write this, my Fabulous Husband is finishing up some vacuuming…to rid our home of this week’s allotment of cat hair! This is part of why he is fabulous. A) I haven’t touched a vacuum cleaner since we got married (HATE vacuuming more than cleaning toilets) and B) he is in charge of all things related to the cleaning of cats. That was the deal we struck when the Three Rotten Cats came to live with us.

Actually, we only started out with two. Only I say because when you have three, well, it’s a lot and two seems like…a lot less. I did not grow up with cats. I never liked cats. In fact, I hated them. My only experiences of other people’s cats involved dead mice on the front porch and cat scratches on the owner’s hands. No thanks. No cats.

But when Captain Fabulous and I bought our first home, we decided we should have pets. After some discussion, we agreed that we did not live a lifestyle that would really be fair to a dog. OK, settled – no pet.

Then he says, “what about a cat?”

Me: “No. No cats.”

He: “Why?”

Me: “I hate cats.”

He: “You do not hate cats. And I like cats.”

Me: “I hate cats.”

He: “How do you hate cats?”

Me: “I hate cats. They claw things with their…claws. And they hang out with witches. And I heard they sit on babies’ chests and suck their breath out.”

He: “We don’t have a baby.”

Me: “They hang out with witches.”

He did not take the opportunity presented to him at that moment. I would have. Another reason why he is Fabulous.

Fast forward several months: A woman at work sent around an e-mail that she was caring for an abandoned kitten that she could not keep because she already had too many cats. We inquired but found that the kitty had already been promised. So we were lucky too late. However, she had a friend who just happened to foster for an organization called Peaceable Kingdom and would we like her phone number? She was certain that her friend was currently caring for a litter that needed homes.

Sure. Number. Can’t wait.

The next thing I knew, we had an appointment to take a long drive and go meet the cats. When we arrived, we found that she had three cats remaining from the litter of beasts that needed homes. I knew where this was going… He Who Likes Cats wanted to take all three home with us. NO WAY! We agreed that we would get two – one, two – so that they could keep each other company when we weren’t home or whatever. NOT THREE. So we made our selection and went home the resigned proud owners of two cats.

Fast forward to early December. We got a Christmas card from the Cat Boys’ foster mom. Aside from the holiday wishes and inquiries about the two Boys, she explained that the remaining brother was still not adopted and had completely withdrawn from playing with the other foster cats, didn’t engage at adoption days, and seemed to actually miss the other two. Would we consider adopting the remaining one?

Uuuuhhh…why do I suddenly feel like I have the word “sucker” stamped on my head?

If I’m being totally honest, I have to admit that the idea of that last leftover brother haunted me for weeks before that card came.  He Who Likes Cats, however, had come to the conclusion that three cats is simply too many cats and advised AGAINST getting the last brother.

Now what?

We took a poll and the odds were stacking up against this little bugger. The vote came down to our two moms. Mom of He Who Likes Cats said three cats is too many cats and she would not advise having three cats. I knew what Mom of Me would vote – she liked cats even less than I did. (Probably where I heard the thing about witches and babies.)

So we asked her.

In an unprecedented show of kitty sympathy, Mom of Me said, “She has one poor little lonely brother left? And he misses them? And he’s sad?”

“Yup.”

“You HAVE to go get him.”

Unbelievable.

So we went and got him.

We now had THREE Rotten Cats. ALL black (see? witches). ALL IN OUR HOUSE.

As it turns out, three cats, five years and a Kidzilla later, I don’t think we’d have it any other way. They are all sweet, affectionate, and highly entertaining. They don’t claw the furniture, they don’t puke on the carpet (much), and they do their business in a box (most of the time). Very often, to my amusement, all three can be found hovering in my general vicinity. At this second, one is having a snack on my left, one is sleeping in the chair across the table, and one is on my feet.  Talk about ironic.

Meet the Boys… (from left to right) Cat Two, Cat Three, and Cat One.

Oh, and the leftover one? I think he knows Mom of Me rescued him…he loves her. She’s horrified thrilled.